We need to talk about Alfred
by Thefreakoutsideyourwindow
Summary: Being neglected constantly throughout childhood was bad enough, but when your brother turns out to be a murderous sociopath Matthew finds himself travelling down a dangerous road that only he himself can stop. (M for gore, more characters appear later on)
1. In the beginning

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**A/N: Hello guys! Quick word of warning, this story may or may not be sporadically updated (but don't let that put you off, I find inspiration at the strangest of times!) but I have a pretty good idea of how this is going to go. I have had this on my mind ever since I watched 'We need to talk about Kevin' (which I seriously recommend that you watch) and I haven't been able to let go since. Anyway, enough of my rambling and enjoy!**

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><p><strong><span>We need to talk about Alfred<span>**

"It was always like this. No-one really noticed, because no-one really cared. It was just me and my brother. Alfred and I. And for a while, I didn't care either. His actions were his, and mine my own. At least it felt like that. But now, well..." The figure chuckled, but it was cold and empty.

"If one stares into the abyss for too long, they'll find it staring back, eh?"

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><p>20 years previous<p>

Moonlight shone gracefully through the slightly dusty windows and into the humble dwelling, giving at an almost other worldly feel. Gorgeous marble table tops were littered with garbage, marring its beauty. Unnatural light flickered and changed colours, bouncing off the blank walls of the living room, small sounds accompanying it. Two children of the relative same height sat in front of the television, absorbing the techni coloured wonders as they tried to block out reality.

"WELL MAYBE IF YOU WERE HERE HALF THE FUCKING TIME, YOU'D UNDERSTAND!"

Thin walls shook in fear at the fury of the mistresses voice, booming through the plaster and floorboards. A louder and deeper voice countered it.

"NOT HERE?! WELL MAYBE YOU SHOULD TRY EARNING THE INCOME FOR A WHOLE FUCKING FAMILY!"

Matthew visibly flinched at hearing his fathers response, close to tears as the television show wasn't enough to soothe his nerves or distract his frazzled mind. Seeing this, Alfred wrapped his arm around Matthew in an attempt to comfort him, or at least make him feel safe. Snuggling into the warmth, the older of the two soon fell asleep into dreamland, the weight of reality falling off his shoulders.

"We'll get outta this hell hole Mattie," Alfred whispered, the moonlight giving the blue of his eyes a searing edge as he glared at the cold, blank walls of their 'home', "I'll make sure of it."


	2. The waterfall boy

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**A/N: Whooee, that was quick. If you're following this, hello again! If not, hi anyway! This story may start out slow, but stick with it and it'll roll like an avalanche. Chapters will probably get longer. Enjoy!**

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><p><strong><span>We need to talk about Alfred<span>**

"When was the first time something happened?" A cold voice asked, detached of emotion or even the very thought that something like this would be so painful to talk about, so _terrifying_ to know that you had just accepted it without a word in the heat of the moment, as if there was no other option.

Cold sweat broke out across his forehead, making him shudder as he avoided the piercing eyes that bore deep down into his core and ripped away mercilessly at all the protective layers he had built up around himself all these years.

"Well?" The voice asked again, somewhat irritated, and pressed further, like applying more salt to a paper cut, squeezing, twisting and just drawing out the pain until it was unbearable and you'd have to snatch your hand away.

Biting down roughly on his lower lip, calloused from all the years of doing so, Matthew inhaled deeply through his nostrils, and began the seemingly sweet tale that turned into his most vicious and vivid nightmare that he was living.

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><p><em>It's days like this that really drag on...<em>The little boy thought, swinging his legs absent mindedly from the crooked porch outside their cheap, ratty house, the off white paint hanging onto the stone walls pathetically. Heat swarmed the area, infesting everything that it touched, causing many of the unattended plants in the household to finally shrivel up and die. Sunlight cascaded down from the cerulean sky, giving everything else a more inviting appearance as a gentle breeze caused dust to roll across their dead back yard.

_Not that I mind._ Matthew thought happily, humming a little French tune that they learn in school that day, but not loud enough so that anyone could hear him. He'd get in real trouble if that happened. His thoughts began to take a darker turn, and, almost as if copying him, the sun slowly hid behind a cloud, bringing back the dull reality of his situation, as if it was taunting him.

_Mom and Dad have been getting angrier lately..._ Last week his mommy had come downstairs with these weird splodges of blue and purple all over her and sent them both up to bed with an angry and firm '.'so they knew that even she wouldn't pretend to be nice to them this time. _Daddy keeps getting mad at Alfie too..._

Alfred, Matthew's brother only one year apart, looked like a mirror image of him apart from having shorter wheat blonde hair, an unruly cow lick and the bluest eyes that even strangers would fall for. Yet aside from that, their personalities were literally polar opposites. Having grown afraid of the beatings that would follow, Matthew soon lost all self-confidence and became introverted, not saying anything unless absolutely necessary, and even then he preferred to stay in the background, out of sight and out of mind.

On the other hand, it seemed that Alfred was unable to sense the waves of rage that practically rolled off of their parents when he remained defiant against them, or did an extremely unpredictable and 'anti-social' as his parents had called it, act. One time he even started a fire in the neighbour's house because he apparently 'hated the look of it', giving them extra beatings that night. He seemed to be getting more out of control as each day would go by.

Thinking about Alfred caused his thoughts to drift towards him, or, more particularly, what he said last night.

_Two figures, each within their small, respectable beds, tossed and turned as noisily as they dared, the tattered and worn covers morphing awkwardly over their shivering, near-naked bodies. Shouting and sobbing could be heard below, but neither of them actually dared to approach the sound, knowing all too well what was already occurring. To them it was an, if not daily, accustomed to occurrence._

_Silently, pulling down his cover so he could look at the rotting, bland ceiling, Alfred whispered out with determination in his eyes,_

"_Hey Mattie?"_

_After some quiet shuffling, a hesitant, shaking voice replied,_

"_What is it Al? We shouldn't be talking. If dad hears-" He was quickly cut off by his brother, replying in a insistent and slightly harsh tone,_

"_He won't. Not when he's busy downstairs with Mom."_

_Gulping, Matthew nodded, fearfully looking at the thin, wooden door which was their only protection from the monsters they called their 'parents'. Not seeing any subtle changes in the light outside the door, or hearing any footsteps, he warily looked back to Alfred who was sitting up too, his back resting against the plaster wall. Matthew had learnt to become observant, since if he wasn't, he would catch himself or face punishment._

_Sighing, he answered, "Fine, I give Al, now what is it?"_

_The statement of surrender had the younger boy grinning maniacally in delight, forcing himself not to bounce around on the covers before remembering what he was going to say. Sky blue eyes that seemingly held such innocence turned dark, like the murky abyss of the sea, impenetrable without becoming trapped in it, filled with malice and hatred._

"_You know that new Danish kid at school?" He spat quietly, words laced with venom._

_Looking upward, Matthew though about this for a moment before remembering and replied,_

"_Yeah, I know him. Matthias, right?"_

_Alfred nodded vigorously, his cow-lick bobbing in the motion as he recognised the name. Determined to get flawless support, just like he had all those other times when he stuck up for Mattie, he whispered elated,_

"_Yeah, that's him," And after pausing, looking into those violet eyes and knowing that he just __**had**__ to agree, he continued, "I'm gonna kill him."_

_After baulking for about a minuted, Matthew huffed, retorting, "Very funny, Al." As he quietly slid back into his bed, facing the wall and avoiding Alfred._

_Well, Alfred thought, that was not the reaction I was expecting. However, Alfred was not one to give up easily._

"_I'm serious Mattie!" He whispered harshly, whining a little along with it to hopefully add more effect. That always worked._

"_Why would you even do that Al? He hasn't done anything to you." Matthew replied, hugging his thin covers closer to him in the hopes of getting more heat._

_Grinding down on his teeth, Alfred bounced back onto his bed, pulling the covers up, silently fuming at Matthew in his head. Matt __**owed**__ him! After all he had done for him! Well, his brother would come around to seeing the truth eventually._

"_He's just a bad guy Mattie, I can tell. So I've gotta get him first before he gets one of us." Alfred spoke firmly, resolutely, leaving no room for argument._

_Realising that it was a moot point to argue, Matthew simply blocked out the rest of Alfred's ramblings, simply brushing it off as one of those phases that would pass. When he was in Alfred's year, there was a Russian he didn't like. But he just didn't like him, that was it. It'll just be the same for Alfred._

_However, being too occupied on the thought of getting precious sleep to escape from the dreadful reality, Matthew didn't hear the sinister whisper of "I'll prove it." from Alfred as sleep claimed him once more._

Bringing himself back to reality, Matthew listened contently to the sound of birdsong in the trees as the breeze gentle picked up, combing through his hair like the gentle mother's hands which he had never experienced. Sun padded his face, giving the only warmth that he knew was attainable within this mortal world, calming his senses. However, the sun wasn't as strong as before, and opening his eyes he saw it to be about four in the afternoon. Alfred wasn't home yet.

Fearful eyes widened, realising that Dad would be home any minute from work. Matthew quickly bounced off of the porch, his buttocks having gone slightly numb from the lack of movement as he sprinted to the forest where Alfred had said he was going to play in a few hours ago and could only hope he would make it to warn him in time.

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><p>Frozen to the spot, Matthew could only look in terror as he stumbled across the scene in front of him. With each silent breath he took, a scream wanted to rip itself from his throat, but only pained whispers of breaths came out in exchange. His knees felt weak and his tongue felt heavy too as he felt the all familiar taste of bile crawling up his throat and was messily sick in a bush next to him, unable to hold back the nausea, terror and tears.<p>

He felt eyes lock onto his figure.

Ripping through branches and shrubs that would seem beautiful given any other time, Matthew had ran into the woods to simply warn Alfred that their father would be home soon, and would not like to see him 'rip Alfred a new one' as he had heard before in one of his uncontrolled rages. He was able to locate Alfred quickly, seeing the bright yellow cloth of his tee-shirt on his back and hearing him panting heavily, probably just playing a game. However, what he saw was no simple game.

"Mattie." Alfred called out, causing Matthew to snap his head up and look at his brother, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Help me."

For a moment, Matthew could only stare at what he deemed his brother. Blood stains were splattered over his once welcoming tee-shirt, marring the original colour and giving it a shocking appeal. His eyes looked tired and clouded, as if he could cry at any given moment. His stance was firm and unwavering, his limbs not shaking unlike Matthew's and had bloodied fists from punching, yet he still conveyed uncertainty. Wheat blonde hair and a clean complexion were also haphazardly covered in blood, causing it to crust as his hairs began to stick together.

All of this terrified him senseless to the point where he would much prefer his parent's wrath if he went home then and there than to spend a single second more with Alfred. Yet hearing the desperate plea in such a small voice, such a voice unlike Alfred's...that scared him more. The thought of his brother becoming like him both terrified and disgusted him, and, even though, he would get less beatings, he would not be himself.

_I am a big brother._

Matthew thought, moving towards Alfred and holding him in an embrace sticky from the rapidly drying blood.

_I am Alfred's older brother._

He made his way to the site of the murder, holding Alfred's slightly smaller hand all the way.

_I am meant to protect him._

Matthew didn't even flinch when he saw the mangled Dane's corpse, as his mind was elsewhere. He had well and truly been brutally murdered, beaten to death Matthew figured, judging from the fist marks and bloodied bruises where the skin was broken from protruding bones. Only one of his eyes remained, gazing distantly up at the sky, almost longingly, wishing he hadn't died here. His skull had been cracked and a trail of crimson ran down his quickly paling skin as more blood oozed out from the force of gravity. He picked up the corpse, and carried it to the nearby waterfall.

_As no one else will._

The waterfall was of a decent height, with many jagged rocks along the way and a large amount at the bottom. Matthew had seen plenty of criminal shows late after his bedtime, as their parent's could care less, where bodies had been found mutilated and covered up in many ways. The water would wash away the finger prints and the bruises shaped like fists would be hit by more jagged rocks and conceal the act. All in all, it would look like a simple game of tag gone wrong, an accident, a tragedy. With that thought, he dropped the body in.

_He protected me for all these years._

They made their way back to the murder site, picking up a large plastic coke bottle that had been discarded there and filling it up in the river before pouring the water onto the grass, washing away the blood. After which, they tossed the bottle in the river to rid it of any potential fingerprints. It was sundown by the time they made their way back home, and it seemed their father hadn't even bothered coming, probably taking a diversion to a bar or a brothel where the women wouldn't protest against his actions.

_So I shall protect him for the rest._

Since their mother was fast asleep on some sleeping pills of some sort, the brothers quickly collected firewood outside the house without any disturbance and placed it in a large barrel in their back yard, tossing all their bloodied clothing in as Matthew tossed a match in.

_For even if it seems so wrong._

In a frenzy, they both bathed themselves in cold water, not caring if the gas bill wasn't paid, as they had more important things to do. After hurriedly both getting dressed, Matthew poured bleach down the drain to rid the bathroom of the stench and traces of blood. Silently, they made their way outside of the house again, rubbing some dirt into their arms and twigs in their hair for a convincing act.

_And even if I go to hell._

Stumbling into the police office, they both explained their story in tears, how they had gone out to play with Matthias in the woods as Alfred called him there when Matthew was doing his homework, how they had played tag for so long until it was sundown and couldn't seem to find Matthias. Matthias' and their parents were phoned, but only the brother's mother arrived first, hugging them both with semi-genuine concern that she could never show in private, even if her life depended upon it. After they were taken home, a search party was set up for Matthias.

_This is the duty of a big brother._

Matthias' body was found in the morning, almost unrecognisable to his own family who sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, and even though they were upset, they didn't blame the two boys, knowing it was traumatic for them too. His death was declared accidental, and there was no one to truly blame, at least no one they could find. The case dubbed 'the waterfall boy' was quickly dismissed.

_And I shall complete it well._

Alfred and Matthew were Scot-free.


	3. The noble bear exiled from Rome

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**A/N: Umm..hi. First off, please don't kill me! I'm so sorry I haven't updated, life has been so hectic. So until exams clear up, I wouldn't get too hopeful of updates. However, this time this school year will end in June for me so I'll have more time to write. Thank you for all being so patient with the story. Now, onward into my cruel and twisted mind! (Enjoy your stay!)**

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><p><strong>We need to talk about Alfred<strong>

Stunned silence enveloped the room in a death like grip as some of the guards by the door shifted uncomfortably through their sharp, pressed uniforms, squirming at the uncomfortable truth that would have crowds raving like madmen in no time flat. The questioner who had leaned in, so determined, so intent, now stretched back his arms behind his head and let out a shaky breath before readying himself and leaning back in, regaining his composure.

Voice smooth, he asked, "When did people first begin to notice things?"

Shaking, nervous hands unfurled themselves from the too formal trousers around his legs and placed them on the table, as if steeling himself for the battle ahead. Terrified violets flickered up, and, not seeing the man relent, began the next milestone of his fear.

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><p>Mr. Roma Vargas had died.<p>

Everybody knew, it was all the teachers would talk about in hushed voices in the staff room when his grandchildren weren't there, or it was all the students would listen to in awe from a twisted version retold by another pupil. Regardless, the whole school and even community mourned his untimely death.

Mr. Roma Vargas (known as Rome as a joke to his close friends) was the pinnacle of health. Even at 60, he had nearly no grey hairs, was tanned, muscular, loved food and almost always came home with either an attractive man or woman. When Lovino and Felinciano were still babies, their parents were killed in a freak accident and Roma took them in, raising them like he did his previous children. Having a love for children and good business relations allowed Roma to take up a loan and create Beetlewood elementary, of which Felinciano is currently teaching at. His other son, Lovino, was renowned for his fiery temper, but Roma loved him none the less and is now working in a restaurant with his Spanish boyfriend. Everything in his life was going smoothly...which was why the accident was such a shock.

It happened on a dreary April morning on an empty road. The weather was horrendous and so gave way for accidents, but the road was almost always empty-which was why Roma always travelled on it. At 9:03pm on a Wednesday night, Roma Vargas was pronounced dead on site, the charred remains of his vehicle speaking volumes from just a simple glance. Tyre marks had been seen close to the crash site on the road, presumably to avoid a wild animal or stray cat, stating the obvious about the nature of his death. However, there was still room for stopping distance, and the tube that fed breaker fluid seemed to have been removed from the car, and was notably not found in the wreckage.

Despite the obvious grief that it caused him, Felinciano still came into work as always, probably seeking solace in the children. However, even the youngest ones seemed to notice the melancholy that festered within his bones and every movement, and how the shimmer to his eyes was dry and listless.

None of this bothered Alfred to say the least. That was until Mattie broke down.

They were sitting in class, per usual, learning about 3-D shapes and other bits of knowledge in maths when Matthew just dropped his pencil, put his hands over his head and started _**crying.**_ Except crying wasn't the correct word...it was more like he was waling, like a mournful mother who just tragically lost her child. Alfred simply stared in disbelief until Matthew was ushered out into the hall. Even when other teachers left their own classes wondering what the cause of commotion was and went to sooth the uncontrollable child, screams of 'Get away!' and 'No!' could be heard. It got so unbearable that he had to be sent home. The whole act intrigued Alfred, yet he felt no empathy. Was this a ploy? A trick to confuse the teachers? Either way, it left his head spinning in confusion and he went to work it out during recess.

Crouching down so he was at the right level, Alfred picked up a discarded stick on the ground and held it tightly within his hand, feeling the rough bark press in uncomfortably to his young, supple skin. Frustration with his current situation peaked in that moment and he slammed the sharper end against the brick wall, satisfied when it dug into the mortar slightly and left a small crack. Smirking inwardly to himself at his new discovery, he continued to pick away at the mortar happily, unaware of the figure watching him from across the playground.

Felinciano had been observing Alfred for a little while, though he had kept his eye on him ever since he arrived. When children are dropped off at school and don't cry or smile, it is a worrying sign indeed. However, his reaction to the death of a principal had been a recent sound of alarm in his mind. All of the children were upset, or at the least disheartened by the news of his death, yet all Alfred gave was a non-committal shrug and continued on with his work.

Deciding to take action and hopefully improve the poor child's situation, Felinciano stood from the uncomfortable, rotting wooden bench and made his way to the other side of the playground. Peering over Alfred's shoulder, the boy seemed unaware that he was there, and so called to get his attention.

"Alfred?"

Undisturbed, the blonde child continued digging the stick into the clay, slightly annoying Felinciano as this was his late grandfather's school, and thus his only inanimate legacy. However, he soon crushed the feeling and went back to worrying over the child.

"Alfred, are you okay?"

Like a machine, the boy carried on, digging the clay with renewed vigour, going deeper, harder and faster each time. Sky blue eyes were glazed over, suggesting he was not enamoured in the current reality. Finally, all of the stress and annoyance came crashing down onto Felinciano, causing him to shout out.

"_Alfred!"_

**CRUNCH.**

Fright rippled through the Italian like a wave and he jumped back, perturbed as Alfred had slammed the stick hard enough into the wall that it came out the other side, now remaining motionless. All confidence now gone, the teacher tried miserably to stop himself from shaking in the suffocating silence that pressed itself onto the now too small playground, making his throat constrict in fear. For the longest of moments, all was still until Alfred slowly lifted his previously bowed head, azure eyes dangerously clear and asked, tentatively, in a nearly inaudible voice,

"Mister Vargas?"

In a flash, the teacher was jumped out of his terrified stupor and cautiously looked at his pupil who was now glaring intently at the damaged wall. Swallowing, the lean male seemed to find his voice, and replied,

"Yes, Alfred?"

Not missing a beat, Alfred questioned smoothly,

"How hard can you hit someone before they break?"

Swallowing thickly, the brunette replayed the words in his head disbelievingly. _A child shouldn't be asking questions like that!_ Yet the rational part of his mind was rapidly ignored by the automatic response to answer the question. Stuttering, he replied,

"E-eh? W-well it d-depends on the str-strength of their b-b-bones and-"

Instantly cutting him off, Alfred snapped his head around in a swift motion, challenging and menacing cerulean boring into terrified and confused amber, like a lion before a gazelle, practically growling yet still in a business like manner,

"I didn't _mean_ physically."

All teacher duties forgotten, Felinciano broke under the terrifying glare as the weight of the past few days slammed down onto him and dashed into the staffroom, grabbing his bag before quickly driving home, crying on his bed before sleep claimed him, worry for the child turning into fear and suspicion as he prayed to God that he would never have to experience such a thing again. Yet as they say...

God works in mysterious ways.

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><p>Felinciano was going crazy.<p>

He was certain of it now, forcibly stopping himself from searing holes into the back of that boy's brain from malice. At least to him, insanity seemed like a more reasonable option from what his mind was currently gruelling over, reality seeming too far fetched for once in his life.

_There's something wrong with Alfred,_ his mind reasoned, taking into account all of the finite details that had piled up over the past few months, steadily rising despite his ignorance until he drowned in them. All of the signs were pointing to it. Alfred didn't seem much like a trouble child, yet he didn't seem like a normal one either. Rarely smiled, never cried, and only laughed when spiting another or if another was in pain. Yet somehow he had linked it to his grandfather.

They were never close, the principal and Alfred, yet Matthew spent a larger amount of time with him in his office, talking over issues that many students wouldn't have. And Alfred almost seemed _jealous._ Looking back at it, there had been an awful lot of glares aimed at him from the blonde boy, and he would always try and make up an excuse for Matthew not to go with the principal, even ruining his work so he'd have to stay in class. This was far past concern for his brother. It was more..._controlling._

And if gaining hatred for the child was bad enough (something no teacher should ever do, and nothing Felinciano _would_ ever do), he started linking Alfred to his grandfather's death. Logically, it made sense. His father was a part time mechanic, and would do the occasional job on the construction site, making work gloves and bolt cutters accessible. He could also easily come across a manual for the car's anatomy, thus finding the tube that allowed the breaker fluid to flow though, seeing as it was missing. However, the argument lacked motive, and a child committing murder was practically out of the question.

Yet that did nothing to quell his rising suspicion.

Glancing at his watch, Felinciano noticed it was close to the time for the assembly of the day, held in honour of Roma due to his passing. Slowly, the teacher stood and announced in his usual tone, yet somewhat lacking his usual cheeriness,

"Ve~ If everyone could put your pens and pencils down, we'll be making our way to the sports hall, okay?"

A loud chorus of 'okay' was heard in response from the students, yet a few remained silent, aware of the oppressive and thick atmosphere that came with this particular assembly. All of the classes in the school solemnly made their way to the gym hall in single file, no voices resounding off of the heavily waxed floor and bulletin weighted walls, akin to soldiers being sentenced to death.

Silently, everyone took their seats on the well worn, oak gym benches in front of an ancient projector with a few loose screws here and there, the monotone grey of the plastic mimicking the day and emotions practically swimming in the air. All of the teachers did a quick headcount of the children, checking that none had sneaked off before the presentation was started and the lights were turned out.

Half-way through the assembly, Felinciano could have sworn that he saw a shadow move in his peripheral, yet when he turned, nothing was there. A frown marred his naturally cheery face as he turned his attention back to the slide show, feeling tears being to cloud his eyes when the picture up consisted of him, his grandfather and brother, all in front of the new school with Lovi pouting, himself fussing over his brother's found mood and Roma with his shoulder's slung over the both of them, smiling joyously.

He continued to watch the presentation, wrapped up in emotion until he felt a chill go down his spine as the feeling of being watched became so intense he had to find the perpetrator.

It didn't take long.

Swallowing back his fear, Felinciano honed in on the small figure watching his through the double doors of the gym hall. The blue of those eyes were unmistakeable. Yet it wasn't the haunting fact that they held malice for him and seemed to practically glow in the near darkness. No, it was the fact that they held amusement, as if he was getting some sick kick out of his suffering. And when he saw the wide upward curving mouth moving in synchronisation with his shoulders jumping up yet producing no noise, he didn't feel fear. No, he felt _**anger.**_

Anger was something Felinciano rarely felt, and if he did, it was usually small irritation over what would normally be huge problems to most people. Yet nothing he had experienced before compared to the fiery brimstone expanding from his torso to every fibre of his body and fuelled his half mad desire. No, this was more than anger. This was fury, this was **rage**. How _**dare**_ Alfred laugh at his suffering, at _everyone's_ suffering. How _**dare**_ he treat other people like they were simply tools to be used. And, most of all, how _**DARE**_ he laugh at the death of his grandfather who wanted nothing but the best for everyone and simply to have loving company in return.

Controlled by his desires, the teacher stormed out of the gym hall, brushing off worried glances from other teachers as he went to find the little _brat_ who probably caused Roma's death to begin with. Yet as he pushed past the heavy double doors and powered through the corridor, in his state of rage he failed to notice the small rope cored secretively attached around the supporter of the fire extinguishers on each side, in front of the stairs no less. Gasping, he tried to prevent the inevitable, yet as his feet tangled in the rope he _knew_ that there would be no stopping this.

The last thing he saw was that menacing pair of blue eyes.

…

Grinning and suppressing near uncontrollable bouts of laughter, Alfred leered giddily at the teachers corpse at the bottom of the stairs, neck twisted in all the wrong angles. Not sparing any time to further enjoy himself, Alfred untied the thin rope from the metal supporting clip and quickly tied it up into it's previous state, putting it in the storage room.

Professionally, Alfred sneaked back into assembly unnoticed and tried not to squirm in his seat, waiting until they'd make the discovery. Poor Felinciano...the stupid teacher was getting too suspicious. He didn't have much against him, but he couldn't have anyone else finding out. Smirking, he peeled off his mittens heavy with sweat. The man had obviously gone out of the assembly due to conflicting emotions and made a tragic trip down the stairs. After all, who would question some tiny cord for the annual nativity going missing? And April was still surprisingly cold, so mittens certainly weren't out of the question.

_Yes_, Alfred thought, restraining a smirk, _that would fit quite well_.

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><p><strong>======Tragedy strikes Bettlewood elementary======<strong>

Beetlewood elementary is a reclusive elementary school, located in the suburbs of Maine. Yet this school has recently been burdened with two tragedies. Roma Vargas, as shown above, is the late principal of this quaint elementary school. On April the 12th, at 9:03 pm, Roma's car was found in the ditched of an old dirt road called Millicans' st. He was pronounced dead on site.

The car had been lacking the tube that connected breaker fluid to the rest of the car, seemingly removed by bolt cutters, causing reason for suspicion among the police. Adalbern, an old friend and business rival of Roma has been taken into custody with police stating he will be tried in October for first degree murder.

In addition to this, Mr. Vargas' grandson, Felinciano Vargas, was discovered dead in the school hallway near the stairs at 13:03 pm on the 20th of April. Forensics have released that he died due to a broken neck, the cause most likely being an accidental fall. Many staff have claimed that they saw him briskly walking out of the assembly in honour of his late grandfather, seemingly in a 'flurry of emotions' as he went to cool himself down.

"It was horrible," One of the staff stated, who wishes to remain anonymous, "One moment he was there, going to get some fresh air, and the next we find him dead at the bottom of the stairs."

Another quoted, "Felinciano was an amazing teacher with a bubbly personality. This is a great loss to the school."

The history of Beetlewood elementary itself is a noble one, starting on the dreams of Roma Vargas to build a school worthy of...

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><p><strong>AN: Wow, even I feel bad for Felinciano in this... Oh, if you're wondering, Adalbern is the name for Germania in this, literally translating into 'noble bear'. The title makes sense now, huh? xD Hope you enjoyed! In fact, you can tell me if you liked it or not with the review button. XD *pester pester pester* Virtual cookies all around!**

**'Till next time~**


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